The Night of the Asylum Breakers
by Tripidydoodah
Summary: Senators are being sent mad. Who is behind it all and what do they hope to achieve? James West needs to be restrained.
1. Going Mad

**The Night of the Asylum Breakers**

Chapter 1

I wasn't ill; it was only my fun

(Mr Punch)

It was afternoon when James West left his hotel room, grinning from ear to ear. Ignoring the greeting from the desk clerk, in the lobby, he walked straight into the middle of the street, where he removed his hat and jacket and tossed them onto the ground. He looked at the surrounding buildings and picked out the general store. Running toward it, he grabbed the underside of the overhanging porch and swung himself neatly up onto the hitching post. There he performed a parody of a tight-rope walk, pirouetting at the end and jumping to the ground. He now had the attention of the public, most of them leaping back in panic and several women screaming, as he proceeded to run at them, shouting.

West laughed hysterically and executed a series of back flips down the middle of the street. Now standing several yards from the nearest bystanders, West drew his gun from its holster and fired at the lights, presently unlit, on the roof of the theatre, blasting each one from its mounting. When he had finished, he fell face first into the dirt and was motionless except for a certain amount of twitching.

"That young man must be drunk," was the observation of one man in the crowd.

"Then how come his aim was so straight?" asked another.

"He's stark raving mad," was the conclusion of yet another, which seemed to form a consensus among the onlookers.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," said a voice of authority. A bespectacled man, in a top hat, carrying a black bag, broke through the crowd and approached the prone man. "I'm Doctor Bertram Ellington and I'm well acquainted with this young man," he said. "He has a history of doing this sort of thing."

On hearing his voice, West rose from the ground and, gun still in hand, waved his arms at the doctor, yelling at the top of his voice.

Despite the danger, Doctor Ellington bravely drew close to West and grabbed his flailing arms. "Mr West, you know very well you have been forbidden to handle a gun," he said, removing the weapon from West's grasp.

The doctor gave a signal with his hand and a carriage drew up beside them. The fight had gone out of West by this time and he surrendered himself to the doctor's authority, allowing himself to be placed in the vehicle. The carriage drove away from town, leaving behind a crowd of bemused and bewildered spectators.

The two men in the carriage turned to each other. "Well, how did I do, Artie?"

"To anyone, who doesn't know you, you appeared quite mad, Jim."

"I think there's an insult in there somewhere."

"I shouldn't think if I were you, too taxing on the old noggin. We have to get you to the lunatic asylum. I've instructed the driver where to go. Oh, by the way, I retrieved your hat and jacket. I gave instructions for them to be put with the rest of your luggage at the hotel. It'll be shipped back to the Wanderer, along with your horse. You won't need any of it where you're going."

"Thanks for that, Artie, the sooner I'm admitted, the quicker we can get to the bottom of the mystery."

The mystery to which West referred was one which had caught the attention of the President of the United States himself. Over the last month, three senators had displayed symptoms of insanity. They had been placed, by their families, in private asylums, in different towns. But that wasn't the end of the story. Within a few days, each of them had disappeared from the asylum, with no clue as to where they had gone and who had taken them.

The day before, yet another senator had been afflicted and had been admitted to a private mental asylum just outside of Denver. West and Gordon had been tasked with keeping an eye on him without anyone knowing they were doing so and, if he was removed, they were to follow the kidnappers.

As Gordon would make a better job of playing the part of the doctor, it had fallen to West's lot to be the one admitted to the asylum as a patient. They had decided that a public display of insanity would be best as this would be more convincing to anyone taking an interest in who was admitted to the hospital. Besides that, Gordon suspected that West had enjoyed his little performance.

Gordon had already contacted the asylum and told them to expect a new patient, James West, rich playboy and _bon viveur_. Gordon was to play the trusted family physician so that he could ensure that West was free to move about the hospital and not be bothered too much by the staff.

On arrival at the asylum, the carriage drew up to the main entrance and instantly two orderlies, in white, appeared and, taking West by the arms, removed him from the vehicle and marched him into the building. Gordon was waylaid by a member of the medical staff who wished to discuss West's medical background and symptoms. There was also the task of completing paperwork connected with his admittance.

"I want to make it clear from the outset that Mr West is to be under my care for the entire time he is here," Gordon said, in a perfect, clipped English accent. "Now I'd like to see him and make sure he's comfortable."

An orderly was summoned to show Gordon the way. As they walked through the building Gordon saw a well-appointed dining room and beautifully decorated accommodations. Each patient had their own, well-furnished room, in contrast to the long open wards that Gordon knew existed in state facilities up and down the country. It was obviously a place for the wealthy, more like a fancy hotel than a hospital. Gordon reckoned that most of the patients here could probably have lived just as easily at home, with their families. It amazed him to think that this far into the nineteenth century people with mental problems could still be seen as threats or embarrassments to be hidden away. Eventually they passed through the main building and into the secure annexe. Heavy, metal doors had to be locked and unlocked and the difference to the building he had just passed through was stark. Here there were no carpets, the floor was painted concrete, and the walls were white-washed. Patients still had their own rooms but the doors were of metal, with bars in, and the peace was rent by the groans and whimpers of mental suffering. Eventually, they arrived at the room where West was being kept.

The orderly unlocked the door and then left. Once inside the room, Gordon was shocked to find his friend restrained on an iron chair by manacles round his arms, legs and neck. He was dressed in a pair of loose-fitting pyjamas and had an indignant look on his face. As he took in his friend's expression and the thoroughly ruffled hair, Gordon had to jam his lips together in order to stop himself from grinning. West reminded him of a very angry kitten.

"You can wipe that smirk off your face," West said, "and get me out of this."

"I'm guessing this was the result of your having fought with the orderlies," Gordon said. "Tut! Tut!"

"Artemus!" West warned.

Actually, Gordon was disgusted that mental patients should be treated this way but it was not unusual and there wasn't much alternative when dealing with violent inmates, a mixture of the deranged, the demented, and the deficient.

"At least they didn't put you in an iron utica crib," he said. "Don't worry, Jim, I'll fetch some orderlies and sort this out."

There were four orderlies on duty and Gordon commandeered two of them to release his partner.

"I won't have my patient kept under these barbaric conditions," he told them. "I work on the European principle; no restraints unless absolutely necessary, not just to make the orderlies' job easier for them. Release him immediately!" Gordon knew he was being hard on them but he needed to establish that he was in charge.

The orderlies weren't happy about it. "It took four of us to get him undressed and into that thing," one of them complained.

Gordon didn't doubt it. "Don't worry," he assured them, "I'll make it easier for you." So saying, he opened his black bag and removed a hypodermic needle and a small phial. Having filled the one from the other, he made sure there were no air bubbles in the liquid and then approached his patient.

West took the hint and struggled to move his arm out of the way. Gordon grabbed it firmly and injected him. At first West continued to struggle but this slowed after a few seconds and, eventually, he was lolling quietly in the chair, his mouth gaping. Gordon motioned the orderlies forward and they set themselves to releasing West. They did so warily, not quite believing that he wouldn't suddenly leap up and start fighting with them.

Once West was lying on the bed, Gordon dismissed the orderlies and closed the door behind them. He heard it being locked; obviously they were taking no chances, and moved forward to lean over his friend.

"What was in the injection?" West asked.

"Sterile water," was the reply. "You put on a great performance by the way; I really thought you were going to start drooling."

"It might come to that yet."

"Well let's hope our villains make their move tonight then," Gordon said. "In the meantime, I think you had better stash these under the mattress."

He delved into his black bag and produced a knife, a small gun, a lock-pick and a small pouch filled with powder, which had a string attached that could be tied around the waist.

"No explosives?" West queried.

"It would make too much noise. We don't want any interference from the staff.

West nodded. "Do you know what they did with my clothes?" he asked. "I'd rather not wander too far in these pyjama bottoms. Despite the buttons on them, I have this feeling that they're going to fall down.

"Sorry, Jim, can't help you there but let's have a look at those buttons." Gordon lifted West's pyjama top, which was in one piece and had no fastenings, to take a look at the buttons. "If you promise not to use it except in an emergency, I could replace one of these with an exploding version."

"Do it!" West said.

Always prepared, Gordon produced a button, from his bag, and a needle and weak thread. He removed one of the buttons and expertly sewed the replacement onto the material. It would act as a normal button but would be easy to remove with a sharp tug.

Gordon replaced the needle and thread and closed his black bag. "Well, James, my boy, looks like my work here is done. I'll tell the orderlies that the injection I gave you lasts for twenty-four hours. That way, they won't be tempted to restrain you again. Remember not to fight with them when they bring you your dinner and settle you for the night."

"I'll remember."

"Good-bye then." Gordon knocked on the door and an orderly opened it, let him out, and locked it behind him.

Once his friend was gone, West was left alone to ponder his situation. He wasn't looking forward to any ministrations from the staff as he guessed they would be pretty humiliating. He decided to take Artie's advice; he would simply lie back and think of his country.

There was no lighting in the patients' rooms in the secure annexe so, as the sun went down, West found he was in darkness, apart from the light from the corridor which came through the bars on the door.

Dinner was a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of water. Obviously they thought that feeding meat to the more deranged inmates would excite them too much, so he could expect only the blandest of food. The orderlies left him to eat it on his own but he kept up the pretence that he was under the influence of a sedative, eating slowly and clumsily. He knew he had to stay in character. One of the orderlies must have been keeping an eye on him because, as soon as he had finished, they returned.

"Come on, we're taking you to the bathroom," one of them announced.

"Why are you telling him? He don't understand what's going on," the other one said.

"How do you know? Don't cost nothing to treat them like humans," was the reply, for which West was grateful.

Pulling him off the bed, the two men half walked, half dragged West out of his room and into the bathroom opposite. He had agreed not to fight with the staff but Artie had said nothing about actually cooperating.

Even though he was being watched, West took the opportunity to relieve himself, after which he found himself stripped of his pyjamas and forced into a hot bath. He didn't object to having a bath, in fact he welcomed the opportunity to be clean. However he preferred to bathe alone and was not happy to find that he was soaped and scrubbed by two strangers, just about managing to keep their hands away from his more intimate areas.

Thankfully, they'd dressed him in the same pyjamas afterwards so he retained the explosive button if not his dignity. ' _The things I do for Uncle Sam_ ,' he thought.

They had combed his hair for him and, even without a mirror, he could tell it was not to his liking. He ran his hands through it, partly restyling it and partly mussing it, in the process, so that it now had a tousled appearance.

When he heard the night-shift orderlies taking over, West decided it was time to do a little exploring. He used the lock-pick to open the door and tip-toed, barefoot, into the corridor. His investigations took him past three more secure rooms; the senator wasn't in any of them. The corridor then branched out to the right and ended in a secure side entrance. Peering through a window in the door, he saw a courtyard beyond, with high walls and a gate wide enough to bring a carriage through. West retraced his steps and turned right. The first door on his left turned out to be the senator's. He tried the door; it was locked and the senator was sleeping soundly. West spotted an alcove a few feet away and hid from view, waiting.

West's feet were becoming unbearably cold by the time he heard the noise, issuing from the corridor leading to the side door. Someone was using an acetylene torch on the outer door and, as he listened, he heard the door open and muffled footsteps headed in his direction. Two men appeared and they used the torch to deal quickly with the door lock on the senator's room. _'This is it'_ , thought West. There was the sound of a struggle, then silence, and the two men reappeared, one of them with the senator over his shoulder. They were both dressed in orderlies' uniforms but not the same as the ones worn at the asylum. West followed them at a distance and watched them put the unconscious man into a carriage. As it turned toward the open gate, West jumped onto the back and clung on. As he did so, the gun he had tucked into the waist of his pyjama bottoms fell out onto the ground. He looked at it, frustrated, as the carriage drove away, and he was left with just the knife he had clasped between his teeth. Once he was comfortable, he used the knife to pierce a small hole in the bag around his waist, hoping that Artie would be close behind him.

Artemus Gordon had seen the carriage arrive and, knowing his partner's plan, had followed at a safe distance, on horse-back, searching out the trail of powder that was slowly trickling from the bag West wore around his waist. The journey lasted almost an hour and ended when Gordon found himself outside a pair of chained-up gates, leading onto a long driveway. Now he knew where his partner was, he could rest until daylight. He said a short prayer for West's safety and settled down for the night among some nearby bushes.

(Sorry this chapter is a bit short. The following chapters may be a while as I have a talk to write on the Chaldeans and the new Castle Box Set has just arrived)


	2. The Fluffy Torpedo

Chapter 2

The Furry Torpedo

"There is one other reason for dressing well, namely that dogs respect it, and will not attack you in good clothes"

(Ralph Waldo Emerson – American essayist, lecturer, and poet)

James West didn't know what to expect at the end of the long drive. The carriage began to slow and he jumped down, before he could be seen. He was near some bushes and decided to hide behind them until he could get his bearings. The bushes were at the side of a large house and he was able to remain hidden whilst watching the Senator being unloaded, and carried into the building, by the light coming from a side door. He knew he had to gain access to the house while it was still dark outside. He waited until the carriage was driven away and once he was alone, crept around to the back of the house. The only light was coming from the basement and he guessed that was most likely where the Senator had been taken. Deciding that the safest thing to do would be to enter the house via the ground floor, West tried one of the windows and, finding it unlocked, eased it open and climbed noiselessly inside. He found himself in a library, surrounded by shelves of books. Negotiating his way across the room, in the dark, West reached the door and opened it a crack to peek into the hallway beyond. Everywhere was quiet. He decided to look for an entrance to the basement and began investigating the ground floor doors one by one, careful not to give his presence away.

He saw a feint light coming from under one of the doors and had just opened it, to what turned out to be the kitchen, when he heard a growling, followed by a loud series of barks. Out of nowhere a furry torpedo launched itself at him and grabbed the leg of his pyjamas. West tried to shake the creature off and, in the process, overbalanced, tripped over a table-leg, and cracked his head on the stone floor. As the room around him dissolved, he thought he saw a figure enter the room. His last thought was 'oh no, it couldn't be...'

When West came to, he was in the basement he had been searching for, locked in a cell, with iron bars on two sides. Two of the missing Senators were in the cells opposite his, the third was in the cell next door. They were obviously under the influence of a sedative. At one end of the room was a door leading to an inner room where activity could be heard going on. He gingerly felt the back of his skull. He didn't know how long he had been unconscious but it was time for a hard lump to have formed.

While he was pondering his situation, two henchmen entered the basement, via a set of concrete steps, and approached him with guns drawn.

"Hi, fellas," West said.

Ignoring him, one of them unlocked his cell door and motioned with his gun.

"You're coming with us," he said, "and don't try any tricks!"

West silently exited the cell and left the basement, sandwiched between the two men. He put all thoughts of escape out of his mind; he still had a lot of work to do.

Eventually, they arrived at a set of double doors which opened into a richly-furnished drawing room.

"Please be seated, Mr West," said a familiar voice, from behind one of the wing-chairs.

"Dr Miguelito Loveless," West said, as the diminutive figure revealed itself, laughing whole-heartedly. "I see you're full of yourself, as usual," West added.

"Ah, but Mr West, you must admit that it is amusing when one goes out for catfish and finds a shark is caught in one's net." He was still laughing. "I'm sorry you were injured in the process," he added, mock-sincerely.

"You needn't worry about me," West said, glancing around the room.

"Looking for your erstwhile antagonist?" Loveless asked. "I've sent him out into the garden. I apologise for his behaviour but he seems to have taken a dislike to your odd manner of dress. I do hope you were working undercover in the lunatic asylum and that your wits haven't completely deserted you," he added with glee.

"Much as I'm enjoying getting reacquainted, I hope you'll get to the point and tell me what it is you're up to this time."

"Perhaps I don't intend to tell you."

"I very much doubt that."

"Well, as a matter of fact, on this occasion, you are quite correct. I do intend to tell you. You'll be amazed and impressed."

"I'll try not to become too emotional," West said.

Dr Loveless laughed louder than ever. "Oh, Mr West, if only you knew how difficult that's going to be," he said cryptically.

West gave him a puzzled look. What did the little Doctor have in store for him this time?

"I have successfully driven three Senators insane and kidnapped them as part of my master plan. I will send them back to Washington having, to all intents and purposes, been cured. That is when they will attack and kill the President of these United States, the Vice-President and the Secretary of State. Now what do you think of that?"

"I think you are the one who is insane and you're going to fail as usual," West said, "but, tell me, how you think you're going to achieve all this?"

"If you cast your mind back, you will remember a little drug I concocted that gave you hallucinations," Dr Loveless began.

West felt the blood drain from his face.

Dr Loveless noticed. "Ah, you remember how I tricked you into thinking you'd killed your best friend, Artemus Gordon," he taunted. "You must admit it was a master-stroke on my part."

"You don't change, do you, Loveless?"

"Dr Loveless to you and, actually I have changed, so there, Mr 'know-it-all' James West. I no longer want to use it to destroy the population of the world. That, I admit, was rather ambitious. However, with a little tinkering, the drug can now be used to drive people mad, but not violently so. Once I have control of them I can make them do whatever I want."

"How, by hypnosis?"

Dr Loveless scowled. "I will be open-minded enough to forgive you for thinking I would use such base methods, Mr West. After all, what are you but an ex-soldier, a tool of the government, trained to follow orders? You can't possibly be expected to have the breadth and depth of imagination that I, as a genius, possess."

West bowed slightly, acknowledging the hit with a wry smile.

"However, because of your crass assumption, I refuse to tell you any more of my plan," Loveless said crossly.

"I'm desolated," West said, "does that mean I can go?"

"My men will escort you back to your accommodation."

Not long after he had been returned to his cell, the door opened and a man bought him some clean clothes, including underwear. West put them on, glad to be out of the pyjamas and, for once, grateful to Loveless. Soon he was dressed in black twill trousers, tucked into knee-length leather boots, a white shirt, and a black corduroy waistcoat with silver buttons. He remembered to tear the explosive button from his pyjamas and put it in his pocket.

West was just beginning to realise how hungry he was when the two men from that morning returned and opened the cell door again.

"You're invited to eat lunch with the Doctor," one of them said. "Come with us!"

West went with them willingly. He was hoping to find out how Loveless was going to persuade the Senators to commit murder for him.

In the dining room Loveless was already seated at the head of the table. The furry torpedo of the previous night was sitting at the Doctor's feet. West could now see that it was a brown and white, smooth-coated, Jack Russell terrier. Thankfully, he was happy that West was no threat, now he had dispensed with the pyjamas, and paid him no attention.

"Ah, Mr West, I see you are properly dressed at last. Please sit down and tuck in," Loveless said, picking up a chicken leg, from a plate in front of him, and beginning to chew on it.

"Well, Mr West," Loveless continued, giving a piece of meat to the Jack Russell. "After our last conversation, I expect you are bursting with curiosity still."

"I'm just about managing to contain myself," West said.

"Tut! Tut! I know you're joking. That's why I'm going to take you on a tour of my laboratory after lunch."

The two men became aware of a commotion going on in the hallway. Suddenly the door burst open and a well-dressed male in his forties burst into their presence, brushing off the man trying to hold him back.

"I am a representative of the ASPCA and I will not be prevented from carrying out my duty," he said. "I have been told there is a dog here that may be in need of rescue..." His voice trailed off as he took in the sight of Dr Miguelito Loveless, sitting at the table.

"Do come in, Mr Gordon, and join us for lunch," Loveless said.

Gordon turned to see that one of the Doctor's henchmen was pointing a gun at him; he sat down, throwing his hat on the table. "I knew I should have used a more elaborate disguise," he said, in disgust. "How are you, Jim? I see you're dressed again."

"Oh, I'm just fine," West replied. "I had to change clothes; the dog took exception to my pyjamas."

Gordon gave him a strange sideways look, decided it wasn't worth pursuing, and turned to Doctor Loveless. "So what happens next?" he asked.

"Next, Mr Gordon, you will join me and Mr West on our tour of my laboratory. You turned up just in time."

"Lucky me!"

"Yes, you are lucky, Mr Gordon. You will be privileged to see a genius at work."

"Surely, you're more of a mastermind."

"Or an egghead," West chipped in.

"Stop this! You will pay for slighting me."

"Let's just get on with it," West said, standing up.

"All right, Gentlemen, let's go," Loveless said, heading for the door. The two henchmen motioned to the agents to follow him and brought up the rear.

The laboratory turned out to be the room at one end of the basement that West had seen earlier. When they entered there was a young, dark-haired woman, in a white coat, working at one of the benches. Loveless approached her.

"How are things going, my dear?" he asked.

The woman turned and displayed the bluest eyes West had ever seen, hidden behind a pair of eye-glasses. "Everything's ready, Doctor Loveless," she said.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Miss Octavia Brewer. Miss Brewer, these gentlemen are Mr James West and Mr Artemus Gordon." The two men bowed their heads in turn.

"Pleased to meet you," Octavia said.

"Likewise," said Gordon.

"Charmed," added West.

"Miss Brewer has been helping me perfect my new serums," Loveless said. He pointed to a row of coloured bottles on the bench in front of them. "With them I am capable of arousing emotions in my subjects." He pointed to each bottle in turn. "Blue is for love, red for bravery, purple for hate, yellow for cowardice ,and black brings on madness; you've seen the results of that one.

"You're absolutely crazy," West said.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, Mr West, but names will never hurt me. Many geniuses over the centuries have been labelled as 'crazy'. I have a limerick for you.

There once was an agent named West,

With Loveless he shouldn't have messed.

To think with brute force,

he'd defeat me, – Of course,

Of the two of us, I was the best."

Loveless laughed long and loudly at his own wit. At the same time, the two henchmen caught West and Gordon by surprise and hit them on the head from behind. West went down, instantly unconscious. Gordon just had time to murmur "Surely, that should be 'better' not 'best'," before he succumbed.

Loveless scowled at him. "I have had enough of both of you," he said, kicking the unconscious Gordon in the ribs. "Take them to their cell and restrain them!"

When the two agents came round they were on cots in the cell West had previously occupied. Both of them were cuffed to the frame at hands and feet.

Dr Loveless and Miss Brewer were in the cell with them.

"The senators were to be the first to test my emotion-changing serums but as you have been kind enough to join us, not to say barged your way in here, I have decided that you will be my guinea pigs instead," Loveless said, with a wide grin. "Octavia, will you do the honours?"

Miss Brewer wheeled a trolley into the cell and picked up a filled hypodermic needle. She stepped forward and injected West in the arm. She then went back to the trolley and fetched a second needle, with which she injected Gordon.

"At first, you will feel disoriented. Don't worry. Although the effects may be extreme they are harmless."

The Doctor and his assistant left, the Doctor laughing hysterically.

The two men turned their heads to look at each other, disquiet in their eyes. They hadn't been able to see what colour serum had been injected into them but they knew it wasn't going to be good.


	3. An Agent in Love

**"** **Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love."**

 **Jane Austen – English Novelist (1775-1817)**

After Doctor Loveless and his assistant had left, the henchmen, dressed in their orderly whites, came in to the cell. One of them released the two agents from their shackles, while the other held a weapon on them, just in case they took it into their heads to try to escape. Before he left, the henchman handed Gordon a large photograph of Octavia Brewer. Gordon was puzzled but strangely reluctant to put it down. West shook his friend's arm.

"There's no-one in the laboratory. This is our chance to destroy the serums," he said.

"What? Oh, yes."

West removed the button from his pocket and pressed it into the lock on the cell door. Now he needed something long and thin to strike it. "Quick, Artie, give me the photograph! It might work if I roll it up real tight."

"No!" Gordon said. "Here, take this; it's a tongue depressor and it should be long enough. I've had it in my pocket ever since I played Doctor Ellington."

"I'll try it. We have to hurry or we might get caught." So saying West struck the button and leapt back. It held just enough explosive to blow out the locking mechanism, and the cell door swung open.

The agents made their way toward the laboratory. The door had been left unlocked and they entered and shut it behind them. West was sweating by now and anxious to get the whole thing over with. Gordon was passing among the bottles, trying to remember what Loveless had told them. He was worried that his mind was becoming less and less sharp.

Meanwhile, the henchmen had returned and, finding the cell door open and their prisoners missing, burst into the laboratory, looking for them. Gordon left West to deal with them and continued with what he was doing. West steeled himself, strangely reluctant to fight the men in front of him. He ducked the punch that came his way and head butted the first henchman in the midriff. He lifted his arm to deliver a right hook but found his hands were shaking. What was happening to him? While he hesitated, he received a kick to the legs and fell to his knees. He was astonished to realise that, for him, the fight was over. He stayed where he was and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. The second henchman came forward and stepped past him to grab hold of Gordon.

"Come on, you two," he said, "and don't try anything!"

The two agents were taken into the main part of the house and ushered into a luxurious bedroom with en-suite bathroom. The door was locked securely behind them and they were left to wonder what Doctor Loveless had in mind for them next. They couldn't know that the Doctor was watching their every move through a two-way mirror, one of his favourite games.

Loveless was finding the whole situation extremely amusing. "Ah, Octavia, my dear, they have no idea what is happening to them," he said, rubbing his hands with glee.

Octavia was smiling too. "Shall I go in there now?" she asked.

"No, the time is not right yet. Let us watch for a little longer."

In the room, the two men were discussing what had just happened.

"Did you destroy the serums?" West asked anxiously.

"No, I realised, at the last moment, that we might need them. Anyway, I didn't have much time. I expected you to deal with the henchmen."

"Sometimes I think you expect too much," West said, peevishly.

"Well, at least I still have the photograph," Gordon said, with relief.

"What is it with you and that photo?"

"It's all I have until I see Miss Brewer again."

One of the windows rattled. "What was that?" West asked, flattening himself against the nearest wall.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know. This isn't normal is it?"

"Loveless," Gordon said, which explained everything as far as he was concerned. "Those injections have messed with our emotions."

"But it feels so real."

"We're going to have to try and fight it."

"I don't think I can. I'm too scared."

"Jim, you're going to have to pull yourself together or we're not going to get through this."

"What about you? Why don't you tear up that photo?"

Gordon was silent and, for a moment, it looked like he was going to do just that. But instead he clasped the photograph close to his chest. "I can't," he said. "It's all I have of her."

West reached out for the photo and Gordon turned his back on him. "No, leave me alone," he said, over his shoulder.

West was jolted by the anger in his partner's voice and quickly backed off. There was no doubt that he and Gordon were becoming completely wrapped up in their emotions and they would soon not be able to focus on anything else.

Gordon, meanwhile, was failing in his determination to fight the effects of the serum and was sitting on the bed crooning, in a low voice. "Octavia, Octavia, oh my love, why are you ignoring me?"

The door opened and the object of Gordon's desire entered the room. Expecting an attack; West threw himself to the floor beside the bed and peeked over the top of the coverlet to see what was going on. He knew he should reveal himself but the mere thought of talking to such a beautiful woman made his palms sweat and his collar feel too tight. If he had known what was going through his partner's mind, he would have been shocked and probably nauseated as well.

Gordon had risen to his feet and was staring wide-eyed at the beauty standing before him. She took a step forward and he fell to his knees, at her feet, letting the photograph drop to the floor. What need did he have for her image when she was here in the flesh? He felt he should bow his head and kiss the carpet on which she trod.

"Octavia, I love you so much; please tell me you love me," he pleaded, with lowered gaze.

"Get up!" she urged him, placing her hand below his chin and gently lifting his head so that his eyes met hers.

Gordon stood up and tentatively reached out for her. She placed her hands on either side of his face. "Artemus, poor Artemus," she breathed, "I'm so sorry."

"What...? I don't understand," he said.

"I can never return your love," she told him.

"No! No!" he wailed. "Please don't say that. You must love me, you must. How will I survive without you?"

"I'm sorry, Artemus, our love is not to be."

She turned to leave and Gordon grabbed her wrist and tried to prevent her. She looked at his hand, touching her arm, and then into his face, and he shame-facedly, released her, knowing that he loved her too much to compel her to do anything, even if it meant he had to watch her walk away.

When the door closed behind Octavia, Gordon stared at it for several seconds before throwing himself onto the bed to lie with his head buried in a pillow, trying to hold back his sobs. The photograph now lay, crumpled, on the carpet.

When Octavia returned to Doctor Loveless, she found him practically jumping up and down with joy.

"Well, done, Miss Brewer, very well done," he said, clapping his hands, "how delicious to see Mr Gordon acting the fool. What memories he will have to live with. Now let us see what Mr West will do."

West stood up, keeping an eye on the door, and slowly made his way across the bed to where Gordon lay. He knelt on the coverlet and gently touched his friend on the shoulder.

"Artie," he said quietly, aware how much his friend was hurting.

He could see Gordon's shoulders tense as he turned away from him and buried his face further into the pillow, ashamed for West to see his lack of control. West could feel his heart pounding with fear, which had increased with the knowledge that the only person he had to rely on was crumbling before his eyes. He did the only thing he could think of; he lay down behind his friend, spoon-fashion, and put his arms around his waist. He instantly felt safer and Gordon, feeling the comfort from his friend, couldn't hold out any longer. West felt the sobs, shaking his partner's body, pass through him, as he cried with unbearable loss.

It was some hours before West awoke, surprised that he had managed to fall asleep when he and his partner were in danger. He began to panic when he realised Gordon was no longer in the room with him. He jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom..

"Artie, are you in there?" he said, knocking on the door.

"I'll be out in a moment," Gordon replied. It was obvious from his voice that he was under some emotional strain but trying to hold it together. "Don't worry about me."

West could feel the fear rise in him. He wasn't sure he could handle it alone but he fought to keep it from his partner for as long as he could.

It was at that moment that he heard the bedroom door being unlocked and opened, just wide enough to allow something to enter the room.

Instinctively, West leapt for the bed and, kneeling on it, peered over the side to see the little Jack Russell trotting toward him. Some part of his brain was trying to tell him that it was just a dog but his overriding fear had him terrified that it would attack him.

"Artie! Artie! Come here, quickly."

Gordon, embarrassed at his previous behaviour and trying desperately to get a hold of himself, heard his partner's voice and couldn't ignore it, no matter how much he wanted to remain hiding in the bathroom. He opened the door and the little dog ran over to him, wagging its tail.

"Hello, boy," he said, picking him up and stroking his head. He was warm and cuddly and he felt a strange comfort from holding the little creature. Dogs loved you no matter what.

All West could remember was that the dog had attacked him once and he kept well clear.

"It's all right, Jim," Gordon said. "He won't hurt you."

"Yeah, sure," West said.

Gordon, sat down in an armchair, on the other side of the room, and the dog settled on his lap for a snooze. He looked up at his partner and was shocked to see the fear in his eyes. James had always been calm under threat and he'd seen him many times making jokes while he faced death. He had never seen him plain scared out of his wits. Curse Loveless for doing this to them.

Just then the object of his hatred walked in the door.

"Gentlemen, loathe though I am to curtail the entertainment you have provided me, it is time for you to die," he announced. He stood to one side and his two henchmen entered and walked towards them. Gordon stood up and dislodged the dog, which ran over to Loveless' side, while James West fought as manfully as he could to suppress a whimper of fear.


	4. The Arrows of Fate

**Chapter 4**

"One may smile, and smile, and be a villain." (Hamlet)

Shakespeare – English poet, playwright, and actor (1564-1616)

The two men were taken back to the basement. The first thing Gordon noticed was that the three Senators were no longer there. "So," he said to Loveless, "You have carried out your diabolical plan."

"Yes, the Senators are on their way to Washington, as we speak. It was a good idea to test the serums on you two, it made me realise that I used far too large a dose. I don't want the senators to show signs of extreme hatred until they reach the people they are to kill. Still it was fun watching you cope, through my two-way mirror." He saw the look of horror on the men's faces and laughed. "It was very entertaining, I assure you."

They were put in one of the empty cells and Loveless hurried away to the laboratory. He returned with a filled hypodermic needle in his hand and a large grin on his face.

"Due to your present malady, Mr Gordon," he smirked, "I thought you would rather not see Miss Brewer, at the moment, so I have decided to undertake this task myself." He turned to his henchmen. "Hold them down!" he ordered. "Don't worry, gentlemen," he continued, smiling, "this injection will not harm you; on the contrary it will bring you back to your senses. I want your minds to be totally clear when you finally meet your end."

Loveless injected them with the antidote and then he and his men left the cell. "I shall see you in a little while," he said. "Where has that dog got to?" they heard him ask as he ascended the steps to the ground floor.

Gordon and West lay there for some minutes without saying anything. Then Gordon broke the silence.

"Well, that was certainly some merry-go-round ride Loveless had us on," he said.

By his comment, West could tell he was trying to cover the embarrassment both of them were feeling so he answered in kind. "I'm glad to see that he, at least, gained some amusement from it. I always like to do my best to entertain my host."

Slowly, but surely, they started to feel a change coming over their minds, which were no longer clouded by overwhelming emotion.

"What do you think Loveless has in store for us?" Gordon asked.

"He's probably cooked up some crazy scheme by which he means to kill us. That's what he usually does," West replied.

Gordon nervously cleared his throat. "Seeing as we could very well be dead soon, do you want to talk about it, Jim?"

"No, but I suppose you're not going to leave me alone until I do."

"Not at all," Gordon said, "I respect your right to your own personal thoughts."

West sighed. "Thanks for that, Artie, but I guess I owe it to you, especially if we don't get out of this one alive."

"First, let me say 'thank you' for putting up with my lunacy and for trying to help me," Artie said. "I know how hard it was for you under the circumstances."

West was silent for a moment; even an oblique reference to his humiliation was hard to hear. "Hey, that's what friends are for," he finally said, "and it wasn't you saying and doing those things. That was the serum. Anyway, I was just as bad."

"I'm sorry, I was too wrapped up in my own problems to pay any attention to yours," Gordon said.

"Maybe it was better that way; there wasn't much you could do and I would have hated any attention. I'm just going to have to deal with it." It occurred to West that Gordon was handling this better than he was. Was it because he was older, and therefore wiser, or was it because he, James West, was more vain and less able to deal with something that hurt his pride and dented his confidence in himself? He didn't know if he wanted the answer to that question but he felt he owed it to himself to find out.

"Jim, I'm always here if you want to talk about this," his partner said, "but I think we both want to deal with it privately, in our own way, for now. Shall we agree not to mention it to anyone?"

West nodded.

Both of them felt that the air between them had been cleared a little and that they could carry on without having to put up walls between them.

There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. It was just as well that they had finished their discussion because it looked as if they were going to be moved again.

West and Gordon were sitting with their ankles bound with rope to the front legs of a couple of dining chairs, placed back to back. More rope was looped around their upper torsos and the chair backs.

Doctor Miguelito Loveless was walking up and down, laughing at what he considered to be his genius in setting up two identical lethal contraptions, currently facing the two secret agents.

"As you can see, gentlemen, you are each facing a loaded cross-bow, the mechanism of which is triggered when sufficient of the delicious chunks of meat on one side of the scale have been consumed. I'm sure you'll agree it is absolutely devilish. In a moment I will let the dog loose and he will begin to consume the food. Perhaps I should reveal that he has not been fed since yesterday. I'm expecting his appetite to be quite keen." As usual he was laughing loudly at his own inventiveness and the inevitable fate of his two enemies.

"I wouldn't count your chickens until they're hatched," West warned him.

"Why not, Mr West? Surely you can see that no one can stop me now. Besides, I don't have time to bandy words with you. It's time for me to leave."

"Then let me just keep you long enough to hear a limerick I composed in answer to the one you sang earlier." Without waiting for an answer, West launched into the following verse:

Dr Loveless had numerous tries,

To cut Agent West down to size,

But West was too smart,

To be speared through the heart,

So his threats, they all turned into lies.

West finished with a wry smile and Gordon chortled.

"Very clever, Mr West, but you will find that my final threat will end in your death. Now I really must say 'good-bye'."

"Don't let us keep you," Gordon chipped in and West smiled.

With a scowl, Loveless left the room, henchmen in tow. The door was left open for the little Jack Russell to enter. It made a tour of the room, sniffing as it went, until it reached the first scale and the meat sitting in the pan. It was the one in front of West's chair. Gordon called to the dog.

"Here, boy, come to uncle Artie!" he said. The dog remembered him from their meeting in the bedroom earlier and trotted happily over to see him.

"Here, boy," West called, bringing the dog over to him.

"I don't know how long we can make him do this before he gets fed up and starts to eat the meat," Gordon said.

"I think I have an idea how to get free," West said, wiggling his toes. "These boots they gave me are far too big and I think I can wriggle my feet out of them."

Gordon called the dog back over to him, while West concentrated on the task in hand. So far it had eaten some meat from both scale pans.

In short order, West had left his boots tied to the chair and had teetered to his stocking feet. He managed to reach the marble mantle-piece and banged the chair against it two or three times, at which point the back was smashed and fell into the grate. He was free, although still swathed in ropes, which he managed to wriggle out of, now they were no longer attached to the chair. The first thing he did was remove the bolt from both cross-bows, just in time as far as Gordon was concerned, as the dog had eaten just about all the meat on his side. He finally released Gordon from his ropes.

"We don't have time to lose," West said. "We need to get a message to Washington, warning them about the Senators and the mission Loveless has sent them on."

"Actually, I have a confession to make," Gordon said. "Loveless told us that the hate serum was the purple one so, when we were in the laboratory yesterday, I threw all the purple serum away and replaced it with a mixture of the blue and the red serums."

"So, you're telling me...?"

"Yes, the senators are about to boldly declare their love for their victims, as soon as they reach Washington."

West began to laugh and he laughed louder and louder until he was doubled over. Gordon joined in and they joined arms and walked cheerfully down to the basement, where they headed to the laboratory to smash up the bottles of serum.

That was where they ran into Octavia Brewer. Gordon was glad to find that he had no feelings for her whatever.

"Miss Brewer," he said, "I'm afraid we will have to arrest you for your part in all this."

"Really, Mr Gordon, you surprise me; are you and Mr West really prepared for what happened here to be bandied around in open court?"

Gordon turned a questioning look on West. "Maybe you were a little bit hasty, Artie," West said. "After all, if we destroy all the serums, as we plan to do, there won't be any evidence to convict Miss Brewer."

"You make a good argument," Gordon agreed. "Well, my dear, it would appear you are free to go."

"Thank you," Octavia Brewer said, briefly kissing Gordon on the lips before she sped to the basement stairs.

Gordon was smiling like the mouse that got the cheese.

"Come on, snap out of it!" West said, "we have work to do."

Back on the Wanderer, Gordon and West were relaxing with a glass of sherry. West was holding his glass in one hand and lazily stroking the little dog on his lap with the other, now and again tweaking the animal's ears.

"I don't know why you brought that dog on board," Gordon said.

"We couldn't just leave him there," West replied. "Besides I think he's quite cute."

"What are you going to do with him?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to keep him; I'll find a good home for him before we leave town."

"Have you come up with a name for him?"

"Yes," West said, "I thought Doguelito Well-Beloved would suit him very well."

Gordon did a double take and then laughed. "Well, I guess he did try to kill us," he laughed.

THE END


End file.
